


In Sickness and In Health

by C-chan (1001paperboxes)



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Implied Sexual Content, Multi, Other, Sickfic, mention of menstruation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-26 23:06:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17150786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1001paperboxes/pseuds/C-chan
Summary: Joly and his lovers are all prone to different kinds of ailments, whether injury or nausea or simply the common cold. Together, they help each other through it all.





	In Sickness and In Health

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shellcollector](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shellcollector/gifts).



> I aimed for canon era, but this turned out a little less researched than I was originally hoping. I hope it's enjoyable nonetheless.
> 
> Happy holidays!

Bossuet had never been a lucky man.

Excepting in love, of course, but even that had come after many interesting and failed trysts. (He'd tell the story of all the more interesting ones over food and alcohol, if anyone was willing to treat him or trade story of their own.)

Still, even knowing Bossuet's magnetic draw towards misfortune, Joly hadn't expected to find the man on his doorstep with a sleeve torn off of his coat and his shirtsleeve soaked with blood.

"It seems that my old friend has visited me again," Bossuet explained, offering a half-smile despite the pain.

"A bad run-in indeed," Joly replied grabbing Bossuet's good arm and pulling his paramour inside. This caused Bossuet's hat to topple off his head, and Joly only just caught it before closing the door firmly behind him. "You should pretend you're not home next time."

"I tried that," Bossuet replied, shrugging the remaining coat sleeve off, and allowing Joly to take care of his waistcoat buttons. "That's when the fire erupted in my apartment two apartments ago."

"So you don't think that's what caused the flood then?"

"Ah, no, that was my complaining that summer was too dry for anyone's good."

The banter continued easily as they undressed Bossuet's upper half. It was a good distractor for both of them, keeping Bossuet's mind off the pain, and Joly's off his worry.

The wound, when washed, wasn't actually all that bad at all; apparently Bossuet's clothing had taken the lion's share of the damage on its own. It wouldn't require stitches, Joly decided, just a compress to help stop the bleeding, and regularly changed bandages.

This caused a sigh of relief from Bossuet, who clearly had been expecting the worst, and Joly found himself glad to have been able to do well by his eagle.

"So what on earth happened to cause this?" he asked at long last, now that the immediate danger had passed and he was winding cotton bandages around the affected area.

"It's a funny story," Bossuet said. (He always did, and it usually was.) "You see, it all started when I decided to buy Musichetta some flowers…."

* * *

"I'b afrab I hab a code."

"A what?" Bossuet asked, frowning at his partner in love, crime, and insurrection.

Joly rolled his eyes, then closed them tight as he sneezed into a handkerchief. "A code."

"Ah," Bossuet replied. "Well, there's nothing for it, then. Bedrest and care for you."

"Bud I cab mobe jusd fine an–"

Bossuet tutted him. "The last time I had a cold, you worried it might turn to bronchitis or pneumonia, and kept me under observation for a week. It is only fair of me to return the favour."

"Bud–"

"Don't worry, my dear Jolllly," Bossuet replied. "I will make sure that you're well taken care of."

Maybe Bossuet's bed wasn't turned in the best direction as to stimulate blood flow, and maybe his idea to relax and do very little was more of a cure for hysteria than one for the common cold. Still, he made a delicious chicken soup, and was even kind enough to follow instructions on how to cool the burn when he tripped while bringing Joly a second bowlful and managed to scald his stomach.

There were worse ways to recover from a cold, that much was certain.

* * *

Musichetta was rarely sick.

This, in Joly's opinion, was a great boon. Not only did it mean that she could keep her word on social engagements far more consistently than either Joly or Bossuet, but she was also glad to come home and help tend to their needs when said events concluded, bringing along all the juiciest gossip and latest revolutionary pamphlets and plans as she did. Furthermore, she was able to assist in the poorest neighbourhoods, where some widows and refugees took kinder to a woman's presence than a man's, no matter how unassuming Joly tried to be.

Musichetta kept herself busy between her work and her social calendar. Patterns in it only became apparent as the three became closer, and their occasional trysts turned into near-nightly engagements. One in particular, became evident after about a year. 

Joly felt quite stupid when Bossuet pointed out that Musichetta was generally absent on the same days every month. Perhaps that bit of female physiology was not one with which he was the most intimately acquainted, but it was, at the very least, quite natural and obvious.

It was on the eve of one of those preordained absences that he approached her, cheeks flushed at the delicate nature of the topic he was about to breech.

"I don't mean to pry," he began, "but are you embarrassed to be around us during your menses?"

Musichetta looked shocked at first, but that melted into a fond smile. "Oh, that's not it at all," she explained. "They're just simply so painful, and I have horrible nausea for the first day or two; I find myself needing to confine myself to bed just to get by."

"I see," Joly replied, frowning as he took in the information. (Was it normally meant to be that painful? He'd have to consult with Combeferre and see if he had any knowledge about this part of the fairer sex's physiology.)

In the meantime, he was a doctor first, and part of his duty was to see to the comfort of his patients. If he treated this as he might a chronic condition, then his way forward was clear.

"If you like, I could visit you during that time, and see if I could aid in relieving the pain."

Musichetta's smile grew at the words. "That would be lovely."

* * *

Joly looked at the his partners, then at his medical bag, then back at his partners again.

"I'm really not sure that this is a good idea."

"What do you mean?" Bossuet asked. "You're always so willing to help out when someone is ill. Isn't it about time we praise you for it intimately?"

Joly scratched the back of his head as he frowned in thought. "Well, it's not that I don't appreciate the thought, or your willingness to take me just as I am, but I was working on cadavers this afternoon, and I'd hate for any miasmas to follow us in there, let alone get any instruments used on the dead in the general viscinity of _any_ orifice, especially...."

He blushed and let his speech taper off. The way Bossuet was smiling and the way Musichetta's eyes were twinkling, they both knew precisely what he was thinking.

"Well, no matter then," Musichetta decided, wrapping one arm around Bossuet; her translucent, gauzy robe flowing like a halo around them both. "You go get cleaned up, and wash the last trace of the blood, grime, and miasmas away. Bossuet and I will just… go and wait for you to join us in our bedridden state for a while. Does that sound fair?"

Well, for one, miasmas were more in the air than on one's body, and thus washing would not be of the greatest help there. For another, they hadn't really addressed the issue of his tools, but as that was a non-negotiable point for him, Joly would just have to hope that his lovers would forgive him for stowing them away.

Still, a bath sounded wonderful. And as for being bedridden, well…

If the time was to be spent with those two, there was nothing he would appreciate more.


End file.
